


tossing and turning

by worn



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dubious Consent, Elder abuse, Gaslighting (kind of), Incest, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Morty Smith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worn/pseuds/worn
Summary: morty had wanted rick to love him back.but that’s okay.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	tossing and turning

**Author's Note:**

> morty is often the one getting violated by rick in fanfic, so i thought it would be nice to flip that. 
> 
> also, i really don’t think there’s any universe where morty loves rick and rick doesn’t want him back. but if there is, then this is how i imagine it goes: not well. you can’t just mess with morty all the time and not give him what he wants. he can be forceful and manipulative when he needs to be, and cruelty is something he can always learn from rick.
> 
> maybe rick is just... in denial... who knows.

“i’m, uh, still not interested in having sex with you, morty,” rick says, slowly taking his grandson’s hand off of his crotch, a little wide-eyed. “i just, j-j-just wanted a kiss.”

morty stares at him, licking the saliva from his lips, equally surprised - partly at himself, partly at rick. he feels foolish. but if rick didn’t want this on any level, then he’s certainly been sending mixed signals for a long time.

“really?”

“well, y-yeah. you’re my grandson so, no offense, but i don’t find you attractive. not to mention, you’re just a, just a kid...”

the realization of what he’s been wanting for so long crawls right back down into his throat and morty nods, his chest tightening like a rope to hold it inside. 

it makes morty wonder for a moment, why rick slipped his tongue into his mouth and didn’t say anything until morty’s hand wandered. but he doesn’t ask. they agree to forget about it and don’t speak to each other for the rest of the night.

he tries to keep his mind on school, on jessica, on homework, on video games. but who is he fooling, he thinks, when the brightest point of his days has always been rick doing whatever it is he wants and morty helping. his mind wanders without his permission.

a few nights later, rick stumbles into his room blackout-drunk and tells him he’s a good kid, a good boy, his best bud, a real trooper, and all that. morty is sleepy and doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be in the mood to see rick again.

“what’s... why don’t you tell grampa what’s on your mind, huh, morty? sometimes-- sometimes, i dunno what’s rolling around in that head of yours, ya know...”

what’s the point of answering? rick probably won’t remember anything morty tells him anyway. on the other hand, that might be for the best.

“rick, well. i.” morty isn’t certain where he should start, or whether he should say anything at all, or what rick will even do if he’s actually listening in earnest. he tries again anyway, come what may.

“uh, you know how i w-w-want you, right?”

morty’s face gets hot when he hears what comes out of his own mouth. rick laughs, but his eyes look a little helpless when he takes another swig of his flask.

“see, that’s what, what i don’t get about ya, morty... you’re always bitching about our adventures and me not being a nice guy to you, and you-- you wanna fuck your ol’ grampa? doesn’t make sense,” he mutters.

“i- i don’t get it either,” morty says, curling in on himself. 

rick always says love is just a temporary release of chemicals in the brain to make you breed. but how does it makes sense for a child to ‘love’ his own grandfather this way then? there’s no chance of having offspring and even if there were, the results would be inbred. 

it doesn’t make sense. not at all.

rick is sliding off the bed and onto the floor, his head lolling onto his shoulder, drool leaking down his slackened jaw. morty hates himself for thinking rick looks good, even now.

“i, i love ya, morty, i really do. just not ‘that way’... don’t-- don’t look at me like that, d-don’t,” rick says, then his eyes gaze up at the ceiling and he passes out on the floor.

morty has developed a bad habit. an addiction. just like rick’s inability to lay off the bottle, morty grabs the lube under his bed and unbuckles rick’s belt in thoughtless, automatic movements. once rick’s lower half is naked, and morty’s all slicked up, he feels a little sickened at himself.

it had been satisfying to do this to rick after he was violent, held a knife to morty’s throat or punched him in the eye, but rick has done nothing to deserve it this time. now morty is the one being the son of a bitch and he has no excuse for it. he pushes in anyway.

a grunt of discomfort escapes rick before he starts to jerk around, seeming pained at the intrusion. morty wrestles him into place beneath him, and buries himself all the way, hoping rick will shut up. everyone else should be asleep by now, but morty knows his father likes to get midnight snacks sometimes. they need to stay quiet.

morty’s heart pounds and the blood thunders in his ears, his own breath as loud as it is damning in his stuffy bedroom. he feels ashamed, but not enough to stop. rick whimpers and twitches but doesn’t wake. morty thrusts into him with a gasp. rick’s just tight enough - not as loose as he always says he is, but he does take it easily.

morty’s never had anyone else and sometimes he doubts he ever will. rick wouldn’t let him, because he wants to monopolize morty’s time for whatever godforsaken reason-- so it figures that rick, in some way, owes him this.

the man might say he doesn’t want this when he’s awake, but his body is responding now, cock growing hard and twitching in his grandson’s hand. morty’s still small but when he thrusts hard, he manages to hit something that makes rick whine like he’s desperate for it. it makes rick tremble and start moving back against the cock in his ass, searching for that feeling. 

he likes it. morty feels like he’s losing his mind.

“ugh... morty, what are you-- doing to me...”

is rick awake? morty can’t tell. the man’s eyes are scrunched closed. even if he is, there’s no way he has the strength to even walk properly right now. he can’t escape.

morty doesn’t respond. he can’t answer, jittery as he is and exerting himself so hard. morty knows he can’t last long. what he’s done is already an achievement for him; rick panting and sweating and making those small, choked sounds when morty fucks him just right, it’s too much, too good--

morty pulls out and beats himself off onto his own shirt while finishing rick with his other hand. his grandfather’s cock shoots long spurts of cum all over his fingers with a groan, his entire body tensing, and morty goes breathless at the sight. beautiful.

he wishes the moment could last longer every single time, but he took what he shouldn’t have, and now it’s time to leave rick alone.

morty wipes them both off with tissues and replaces his shirt, throwing the cum-stained one with his other dirty clothing. then he pulls rick’s pants up and re-buckles his belt. 

he had pulled out. morty didn’t leave any proof inside of him. rick won’t know. maybe he’ll think it was just another crazy, drunken wet dream he had... it may as well be.

feeling assured, morty climbs back into his bed, leaving rick down on the floor. the man shakes his head back and forth, but he's definitely unconscious. rick sighs, frowning, and snores lightly. morty leans down to run his fingers through gray hair and watches him.

his sleep looks troubled.

**Author's Note:**

> please look at the lovely fanart made for this fic by rain!  
> [https://twitter.com/Jessicasfeet5/status/1368472081806004224?s=20]
> 
> \---links---
> 
> * my twitter:  
> [twitter.com/broc0n]


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